


Brother's Reaper

by DR_Fullwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Gen, Graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DR_Fullwood/pseuds/DR_Fullwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds himself trapped and at the mercy of demon!Dean. He fears for the worse and can only pray that God has mercy on his soul...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother's Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a GIF of Dean licking blood off his hand and for some odd reason it sparked this. Anyhow, I hope you guys like! :)

The thunder continued to roar through the now blackened world. No light dared to shine, at least not anytime soon. With the lightening striking down madly and the rain continually rushing down in harsh pellets, streaking the world as if it were an old film of a horror movie, it was too loud to even hear the torturous Hell that continued on behind the closed doors in the old church.

 

Parked alongside the old and slanting church was a sleek muscle car that blended in the black background. Only the chrome that gave a ghoulish shine in the darkened masterpiece of a perfect thunderstorm could be made out and that was if anyone paid close attention. Even when the light streaked the blackness into a ghostly gray, the black paint was hard to be made out. The church as stated before, was slanting and very old. The wooden planks that shielded the interior looked very worn and likely to cave in at any given moment, yet somehow still stood as tall as an old man’s creation could. A mocking cross in now rusted metal stood tall, yet brittle, at the top of the unbalanced rooftop. The windows were glass-stained, painted in colors that were now dusted over from the inside, yet looking closely and two figures were seen inside. Beyond the painted glass of a Virgin Mary laid the interior to the small little Catholic Church.

 

With each powerful voice by the thunder, the screams were left unheard. Ruckus continued to fill the inside, the sounds bouncing from the opened space. Much like the exterior, the interior was willowed and decaying with age. However, more of the wreckage was by the bodies inside. Another cross, much larger than the one perched at the top of the caving roof, and made of white stone laid broken and on its side behind a podium. Pews were in shambles and if they were then were certainly brittle by the aging wood of mahogany. Dust colored the concrete flooring in patterns, mainly from the events partaking inside at the given time.

 

A body was thrust from the floor, his blue jacket decorated in the years’ build of dust as were the simple blue jeans that he was wearing. He grunted from the forceful action and only had a moment to two of gathering his bearings before his long and bulky frame was thrown across the room as if he weighed nothing at all. He landed on his side, crashing into one of the pews closer to the front. The weakened wood splintered beneath the harsh impact, sending the body down with his long and shaggy hair covering his long and battered face. His knuckles were bleeding while dirt clunk underneath his nails. A groan emitted its way out of the split and thin lips.

 

“Don’t get up,” a rougher and huskier voice came out, yet the fallen man still tried to stand, even though his body was protesting strongly for him to not. He only managed to get on all fours before he pressed further and caused his body to buckle and meeting the flooring again.

A rough chuckle came and soon another male was shown. Brilliant and enchanting green eyes rimmed with thick lashes nearly glowed in the shadows. A flicker of lightening showed the male briefly. His frame bulk and strong with a maroon button up left opened beneath a greenish-blue jacket. A black T-shirt and jeans with dirt stained at the knees. His dark blond hair left the question on if he possessed a brown namely or a blonde shade.

 

While the other was left in blood and bruises, the other didn’t seem to have taken injury at all during this course. However, the body had, but due to what the being was that stood before the other, a quick healing was to a disadvantage. He snorted at the pathetic being wallowing silently on the floor, only leaving grunts with each movement he made.

 

“Well Sammy if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re just _asking_ for me to end you.” The rougher voice said before thuds were heard. The thuds were from the footwear’s soles that the other wore. He walked over to the body and grabbed a handful of hair from the top and forced the one named ‘Sammy’ to raise his head, exposing his battered and bleeding face to the other. He groaned in protest and even more so when he was forced by the control of his hair to raise to his feet. Once he stood involuntarily, a strike of a fist connected with his jaw. A snap was heard and soon Sammy fell back down in a groan.

 

“What, cat got your tongue?” The humor was thick and dry on his tongue as he smirked. His fingers stretched only to close back into a fist. It was a simple and brief flex, yet the crimson was be no mistake fresh on his fingers. “I told you to let me go, but we Winchesters, we don’t learn, do we? Hell, we can thank dear ol’ Dad for that.”

 

No response.

 

The humored and dark emeralds slowly shifted to the stilled body on the floor, face first into the dusted concrete. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head, “Aw, c’mon Sammy, you know it’s rude to not respond. I thought we were closer than that, or at least more mature to not give out silent treatments.”

 

Still no response.

 

A simple ‘hmph’ was heard before he walked over and scooped the other in his arms like nothing. Do to the offset of his mouth’s setting it was clear that his jaw was dislocated. It didn’t seem to bother the other as he carried him to the front. The body was then bound, arms outstretched with limped wrists as his head bowed down. In replacement of the cross, the fallen one had taken positon of a human makeshift of one and forced to be bound by simple weak string and another statue of a man in the same position.

 

Another strike to the man’s face, only it echoed loudly and forced the man to open his eyes into slants, showing his dazed hazel glance beneath heavy lids. His body was weak and damaged. From taking far too much injury to it at one go, it was indefinitely that he needed a doctor, yet they were in the middle of nowhere and the man still standing, laughing at the other’s state, wasn’t showing signs of calling for one. He grasped the jawline and raised the heavy head up more. The man smiled, crinkles showing at the corners of his eyes.

 

“Look at you…all pathetic and slowly dying out. You still think that you can save me?” His smile faltered, “I didn’t ask for your help, Sam. Matter of fact, I /told/ you to leave me be, but like always,” his voice graveled as disgust showed on his beautiful and yet deadly features, “you don’t listen. Let me tell you something, I’m  _tired_ of fucking taking care of your pathetic little washed-out ass. I’m finally free and I’m never going back, and you can’t stop me.”

 

A blade appeared in his other hand. It glistened silver in the darkness, the bodies now becoming drenched, hair plastered to their faces as their clothes heavily hung from being under the only gaping hole from the roof. Rain continued to welcome the horrific scene. The hazel’s fought to stay open as grunts choked out from his throat.

 

“D—Dean…” he managed to grunt out.

 

Emeralds then turned into a devil’s black.

 

“Say hi to the folks for me.”

 

The silver was thrust inside the stomach easily than expected. Dean watched the remaining life from Sam’s eyes leave and he released his baby brother’s face. The blade was pulled out, glossing in a crimson of victory. The body slumped yet remained standing by how it was bound. The eyes returned to a façade of emeralds and he brought his bloody hand to his mouth. Dean wedged a finger in sideways in between his full lips and licked away the crimson. He briefly closed his eyes as he savored the taste. It was the taste of freedom. The taste of Sam was the now demon’s confirmation that he was in fact free from all ties and bounds to his once life. He savored that simple lick and gave a satisfying moan before pulling the finger away and looking to his brother’s dead body. He smirked and that was the last that was seen of the devil’s son.


End file.
